Lady Eilean

Chapter 61

Ronald McEverett, a farmer from the midlands, was first in line. He owned some of the largest tracts of land on Ellesmure. During the war, his wife, Irene, had transformed them from somewhat successful potato fields to acres rich with golden wheat. The terrain and soil had been all wrong for potatoes, she informed me once. She produced enough flour to keep half of Ellesmure provided with more bread than they knew how to consume. Before the army's return, she had opened a brewery to offset excess harvest. Ronald offered a shallow bow to my father.

As my foot hit the first step on my ignoble descent, Ronald McEverett turned toward me and lifted his hands to halt me. His face was stricken with such impenitence that I froze. Standing in limbo between the stage and the crowd. With utter disbelief, I watched as he knelt to the ground with his hand over his heart. On bended knees, he gazed up at me.

"Lady Eilean," he said, ducking his chin tight to his chest. "I understand it is because of you my wife brought success and profit to my farm. You encouraged her to change crops when she suspected the soil would yield better wheat. You sent laborers to ensure she had hands enough to work the field and educate her on proper technique. I left for the war a successful man, but I returned to a wife richer than a king. I owe you my deepest gratitude and everlasting loyalty."

Cold sweat prickled across my back. My breathing came fast and shallow. I looked down at Ronald's bent head in bewilderment. Looking over my shoulder, I studied my parents. Mother looked livid. Father's expression was unreadable. My brothers stood in awe, their mouths open.

Dragging my attention back to Ronald, I met his stare head-on. No longer bowing his head, his eyes piercing. "I promise you, Lady Eilean, that I will be a true and faithful subject. My word, my honor, my sword, my gold, and my life are at your command."

Without sparing a moment to think of the implications, I nodded, accepting his pledge. Ronald stood, and I offered him my hand. He kissed my knuckles and retreated into the crowd. A crowd I had forgotten was there, so silent and captive was their attention. Looking at their faces, I saw none of my astonishment mirrored back at me. Everyone looked as if Ronald's vow was unsurprising and expected.

Assuming it was a one-time fluke, I moved to step off the dais completely. Calum placed himself in my path. He beamed at me with pride. Performing the same routine as Ronald, he bowed to my father before kneeling before me.

"Calum," I said through a constricted throat. "You can't —"

"My most lovey, dear, and kind lady," he said, bowing low, his nose almost scraping the stone floor. "It is atypical, I know, for one Laird to pledge fealty to another, but as I have already sworn an oath to you, I doubt you will mind."

My mouth pulled to the side with my amusement.

"You sheltered me and nursed me. You provided food and comfort and lodging for men of the Northern Isles when you had nothing to spare. You commanded me and tasked me with building you a new world. You pushed me to reconsider the traditions I accepted without questioning. I know of no one as upstanding, noble, or kind as you. Your heart is pure, dear Eilean. As a McKerran of the Northern Isles, as Laird Grant of Istimere, I pledge myself, my house, and my friendship to you for all time."

Undone by his melodrama, I gave him the words he had always wished to hear, "Dear sir, I am happy to accept your proposal."

Calum's head fell back and his laugh boomed. His body shook with amusement. I walked toward him and helped him to his feet, holding him as he found balance on his wooden leg.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"I don't think you're done yet," he nodded at the line forming behind me.